


Chanson de lune

by ufyooo



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 19th century/fantasy, Kingdoms, M/M, Plot Twists, all characters will show up eventually, idk how to tag lmfao, kinda slow burn, lance is sneaky, roooomance out the ass, sun & moon au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufyooo/pseuds/ufyooo
Summary: “Tell me who you are!” Keith shouts.The boy sighs, his dark eyelashes brushing against shimmering cheeks.“I’m Lance.” He says, quiet and sullen. “And I’m your moon, sunshine.”☾☀︎☽If you were to ask Keith what his greatest wish would be, he would tell you he makes too many each night to decide on just one. He lives a solitary life, doing what he can to get by, and always hoping for something more. So when a strange floating boy shows up outside of his window, spouting nonsense and shining, Keith wonders if this is what people mean when they say the universe works in mysterious ways.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This will update sporadically and each chapter may vary in length. I'm aiming for probably 20 or so chapters. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

 

There are many ways keith expected his life to go.

 

Maybe he could have gotten into that fancy academy, the new one with its high walls and open fields.

 

Or maybe he could have taken his old mentor’s offer and bought that rundown smith's shop.

 

Hell, he could have just run, escaped the city when he had the chance and taken to the open road.

 

But staring up at his window now, his ass firmly planted on his bedroom floor after having fallen, wasn’t even close to how he imagined anything to go. And the boy now staring back at him, his blue eyes as lucid as the moon Keith had been gazing at only moments before, was _definitely_ not expected. 

 

_Tap tap tap._

 

Keith was frozen, his eyes stuck on the boy miraculously floating outside of his window. He wears a silken blue coat, the draping material floating around him as if he were suspended under water, and a puzzled expression. As if it were normal for someone to just open their window for a floating intruder.

 

Maybe Keith has lost his mind.

 

The boy straightens and crosses his arms, pointing to the lock on the window like it weren’t obvious Keith had it locked for a reason. His bearings return to him slowly; the sound of the ceiling fan rattling and the scraping of a branch on the roof, the smell of his fireplace and the sharp pain at his hip. Every little detail of his situation becomes acutely detailed, down to the dripping of the pipe in the corner of the room. But to say he took a while to actually stand and inch toward the window was an understatement. Time itself seemed to slow each step he took, like the cosmic grandfather clock was giving him a chance to leap and close the curtains.

 

But, of course, Keith did the opposite. Even as his own thoughts were screaming no, he was reaching for the lock on the window in no time. It clicked and echoed and Keith tried desperately not to fall again as the boy huffed and hurtled through, wasting no time in locking it back. It’s all done so quickly Keith has barely a minute to shake away his shock before the boy is grinning and walking forward, his shiny blue attire looking soft as a petal.

‘

“For someone who gazes at me every night, you sure aren’t making as much of a fuss as I thought you would.”

 

Keith backs toward his dresser, wondering if he kept his blade sheathed in one of his drawers. This guy was nuts.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

The boy raises an eyebrow and stops walking toward him, instead shifting his attention to look around the small room. Keith turns to glance at his drawers, itching to pull them open. The boy tilts his head at the smoldering logs in Keith’s fire place and drifts over before crouching.

 

“Did you not hear me?” He asks, voice low as he studies the embers. His hand is dark and almost feminine as he reaches forward as if he could just stick his hand inside. 

 

“Stop!” Keith shrieks, rushing over to pull him back by the shoulders. “Are you an idiot?”

 

The boy stands and yanks himself out of Keith’s grasp, “How dare-“

 

“You could have burnt yourself!”

 

He looks back at the logs before meeting Keith’s gaze, the blue of his eyes just a tad too bright. Or deep. Or clear.

 

Keith couldn’t really tell.

 

But as the boy grins again and chuckles, Keith finds he doesn’t even care. He rushes to his dresser and rips open a drawer, reaching for the slim knife buried beneath his shirts. He grips it fast before whipping around.

 

Only the boy is gone. Keith hesitates before rushing to the window, eyeing the lock as if it were a snake.

 

“Are you going to stab me?”

 

Keith jumps at the voice in his ear, at the brush of cool breath against his neck. He turns and holds the knife up, keeping the boy at a distance.

 

“Who are you?” He asks, not answering the question. He tries to inch toward the door leading to the hallway but the boy doesn’t move. Instead, his wide eyes watch Keith curiously.

 

“Who do you think I am?”

 

“A lunatic.”

 

The boy snickers and looks down at his bare feet, “Wrong.”

 

“Tell me who you are!” Keith shouts.

 

The boy sighs, his dark eyelashes brushing against shimmering cheeks as he looks up.

 

“I’m Lance.” He says, quiet and sullen. “And I’m your moon, sunshine.”

 

☾☀︎☽

 

 

Keith has never seen a boy eat so much chocolate in his _life_.

 

And he’s definitely never seen a boy shine.

 

“…The moon.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lance sighs and finishes chewing before laying back on Keith’s bed as if he owns it. Keith stays rooted in the corner, his arms crossed and his knife held tightly in his hand.

 

“But you’re not _from_ the moon.”

 

Groaning, Lance looks over. His brown hair fans around his face, “How many times do I have to explain this? I thought you were smart.”

 

Keith bristles, “It doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Why does something need to make sense?” Lance asks, smirking.

 

Keith watches as the light pulsating around the boy’s body, not quite touching his own skin, rises and falls like thousands of tiny celestial beams.

 

“It just does.”

 

Lance watches him for another moment, his thinly shaped brows drawing close together. “I’m not _from_ the moon. My home is charged by it, like yours is charged by the sun _and_ the moon. You just don’t see it.”

 

“Then how can I see you now?”

 

“Because I wanted you to.” Lance shrugs, “But as my home only has the moon, there are others who only have the sun. I don’t see why you’re having such a hard time understanding this.”

 

“Maybe because a floating man just tapped on my window, invaded my home, almost caught himself on fire, and is now eating all of my chocolate!”

 

“Well-“

 

“And you’re shining!” Keith runs a hand through his hair, “Like some damn torch!”

 

“Torch?”

 

“You know.” Keith mimics lighting a match.

 

“Humans are strange.” Lance snorts before sitting up, pressing a hand to his stomach. He grimaces.

 

Keith shuffles forward, “Are you-“

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so much…”

 

“You think?” Keith looks at the now empty sweets box on his bed, already mourning the loss.

 

Lance groans and pads close, quicker than Keith expects. “I came to you because you make a wish every night.”

 

“What?”

 

“You make a wish every night and I’m the only one who listens.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Keith eyes Lance’s hands, his face flushing in record time as the the boy starts to pull at the material on his shoulders. “What are you doing? Look, I don’t know how anything works where you come from but here-”

 

“Shut up for a second.” Lance snaps, rolling his eyes. He pushes at the material until it falls off of his shoulders and rests against the inside of his elbows. He sighs as the warmth of Keith’s room hits his flesh. Flesh that, on closer inspection, is covered in silver. “It wasn’t easy to get here, you know.”

 

“ _No,_ ” Keith holds up his palms, “I _don’t_ know, actually!”

 

Lance grimaces as he touches his right shoulder and Keith pales as more silver streams down the boy’s chest. Lance glances back up, “I just need water.”

 

Keith doesn’t hesitate this time as he sidesteps Lance, quickly making his way to the sink near the bathroom door. He grabs a washcloth hanging from his drying rack and runs it under a weak stream of water, feeling the frigid temperature reach his skin immediately. “Warm or cold?” He asks.

 

“Either.”

 

He glances back at Lance who, much to his chagrin, is now leaking all over the floor. “You shouldn’t have touched it.”

 

Lance meets Keith’s eyes with a grin, “I couldn’t stop the flow for long. Better to get it out of the way now, yeah?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith turns off the water and holds out the rag, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. The light that had steadily grown to surround Lance is slowly fading, seeming to flow into the puncture wound on his shoulder. Keith can’t tell if it looks gross or beautiful, like liquid mercury. He returns to his corner, watching as Lance rubs at the skin around the wound before bringing the rag to his temple. He winces and takes a seat on the floor, huffing.

 

“It’s almost three in the morning.” Keith says, hesitant.

 

“So that means our little moment of peace is going to end in four hours.”

 

“What?” Keith straightens, suddenly alert. He takes a few steps closer, wondering if he heard the boy right.

 

Lance nods his head, “Four hours and thirty minutes. I suggest you try to get some sleep before we leave.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I can’t just tell you everything now.” Lance sighs, leaning his head back on Keith’s mattress. His throat bobs as he gulps, “But I really need you to trust me. If we aren’t gone by the time the sun rises we're dead.”

 

Keith stares. “I-“

 

“I’m being serious, Keith. And once you get to know me, you’ll know that when I'm serious it's for a good reason. So if I were you, I would trust the magical flying boy and hop in the bed to catch a few Z’s. Otherwise, you’ll be running with a light head and I will _not_ be carrying you in my arms.”

 

Keith snaps his mouth shut and glares, before cautiously walking around Lance to sit on his bed. He subtly pinches himself, wondering if maybe he were having a dream. Glancing at the puddle of silver on his floor, he thinks this must be a very, very lucid dream. Lance stands as Keith lays stiffly on his comforter, his grey eyes watching the boy like a hawk. But as Lance draws nearer, his hands empty and eyes wide, Keith feels a soft wave of tiredness pour into his body. He tries to keep Lance in his sights but soon he is swallowed by the comfort of his bed, the haze of blue and silver in his peripheral becoming murky.

 

And just like that, he’s out.

 

☾☀︎☽

 

“Don’t say a word.”

 

Keith wants to shout. The hand on his mouth is cool and smells faintly of rain, like the night air just before a downpour. His room is dark and silent, other than his own breathing. Which, if Lance’s hand has anything to do with it, won’t be a problem for much longer. He lifts his hands and tries to peel him away but the boy is strong. Keith glances up at him, anger and annoyance bursting within his chest like a faulty pipeline erupting from the ground. He debates biting at his palm. But then Lance looks down at him.

 

And Keith is suddenly very still.

 

The boys eyes are wide but cold, as if he could rip his hand through Keith’s chest and not think twice about it. His back is toward the window, which Keith could have sworn was locked before he fell asleep. But now his curtains are blowing in the wind, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Lance has his long coat thrown over Keith’s body and he looks at his bare chest, at the wound that had poured with silver blood, but is now closed. Keith risks a glance further down, slightly relieved that Lance is wearing pants. Even if they are eccentric. While decently tight around his waist and ankles, the dark material billows against most of his legs. He snaps his eyes back up in time to see Lance slowly relaxing, the muscles in his jaw loosening with each release of Keith’s shallow breath.

 

His hand slips away before he quickly rips his coat off of Keith, the silk sliding like water back onto his body. Keith sits up quickly and pushes at Lance before trying to stand.

 

“What the hell was that about?!”

 

Lance rolls his eyes and strides to the end of Keith’s bed, motioning for him to pick up a brown leather bag. “We have to go.”

 

“Answer my question.”

 

The air is tense, both boys waiting for the other to make the first move, before Lance finally grabs the bag himself. “The sun will be up soon. I was sitting at the window and heard noises, so I took precautions.”

 

Keith, not having expected an answer, drops his folded arms. Lance doesn’t spare him another look as he walks to the door and opens it, striding into the hallway as if he’s been in it hundreds of times before. The thought makes Keith hesitate, even as the room grows more and more eerie the longer he stays in it by himself. Wind howls outside as the first of the morning birds begin to sing. He looks around his room, at his life up until this point, and wonders if he really _has_ gone crazy. He’s not scared, per-say. He’s not even worried about the supposed dangers coming for him at sunrise.

 

But the longer he stares at the open door, the more his curtains flutter in the wind, the quicker his loneliness returns. And more than anything, Keith is tired of loneliness.

 

Without another thought he’s grabbing his knife and shoving it into his pocket, happy that it fits, before sprinting to catch up with Lance.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance seems drowsy a few hours later as the morning sun rises higher and higher into the sky. Keith walks behind him, watching his bare feet glide effortlessly over the stone walkways of the city like it were blades of grass. They put a surprising amount of distance between themselves and Keith's home and Lance had been shocked by just how large the city truly is.

 

“We should stop.” Keith suggests, wondering if the boy could even sleep.

 

“A little further.” Lance argues, pulling the leather satchel higher on his shoulder. People have begun to pour into the streets and their gazes are curious, leading Keith to finally believe that he is in fact not the only one who can see the boy in blue. Their eyes rake over his cloak as they open their stands, ready to sell their trade. Keith breathes in baked bread but avoids their stares, knowing almost half of them would try to snatch Lance’s satchel and his coat in with no qualms about morals.

 

At least, they could try.

 

Keith keeps his knife close, never one to trust people at first glance; always knowing there must be something they want.

 

Kindness is not common in places like this.

 

Lance suddenly stops and Keith almost bumps into his broad back. He follows Lance’s gaze upward, “What is it?”

 

“How much longer until we reach the edge of the city?”

 

“A few more hours, I think.”

 

Lance nods and points toward the hanging sign before them, the insignia of an bed etched onto the plaque. “Is this a good place?”

 

“I have no idea.” Keith admits. He’s never rested anywhere other than the orphanage and his own apartment.

 

He follows Lance as he pushes through the open beaded doorway, surprised at how cool it is inside. A woman in a long dress stands beside a counter, reading a thick book. She glances up at them as they enter and pushes her long braided hair behind her shoulder. “How long do you plan to stay?”

 

“We haven’t decided.” Lance says, watching as she puts her book down to grab a key from behind the counter.

 

“I don’t have money.” Keith leans to Lance, “Do you have money?”

 

“Nope.” Lance shakes his head, voice low. Keith huffs at the humor laced in the word, as if this were a game. The woman narrows her eyes at them but says nothing and Keith feels the glare like the prick of a blade.

 

“Names.” She orders, holding a quill to paper.

 

“Keith.” Lance says, “and Lance.”

 

“The room is at the end of the hall.” She holds out the large key. Keith takes it, feeling the weight settle in his palm.

 

☾☀︎☽

 

“How do you plan to pay for this?” Keith asks, watching from his place on the floor as Lance checks the road outside of the window. His shoulders sag, but Keith can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or relief.

 

“That woman doesn’t care for money.” He mumbles, letting the curtain fall back into place. The room is dark when the fabric settles, the only light being the cast iron lantern in the corner of the room. Keith looks at the murals of flowers on the dark walls, the silver and pink blossoms falling and blooming around them elegantly. Clouds are painted higher up, wisps like those that settle near the peaks of the mountains. Keith likes them.

 

“What do you mean?” Keith asks as Lance takes his seat across from him, the small table holding two cups of steaming tea, courtesy of their boarding.

 

“She’s just biding her time here, like us.” Lance says, taking a sip. He closes his eyes, “She’ll take what she thinks is most valuable and call it a day.”

 

“Sorry to break it to you, but we have _nothing_ of value.”

 

“Not true.” Lance smirks, letting his blue eyes open and meet Keith’s. “She knows who I am.”

 

“How?”

 

“Because I’m not the only one like me. And like I said, it’s not easy getting here.”

 

“Are you not supposed to leave your home?”

 

“Of course not.” Lance sighs, bringing the cup back up. He sips slowly and Keith watches as the liquid moistens his lips.

 

“Look-“ Keith sighs, snapping his eyes away. “I need you to start being a little more specific.”

 

“Think of it like the ocean.” Lance places his cup down and stands, stretching. “You know there’s whales and fish and sharks swimming around down there even if you can’t see them, right?”

 

Keith nods, watching as Lance pulls back the sheets on the bed.

 

“It’s basically the same thing, only we’re a little higher up. And invisible.” He lets out a chuckle as he settles into the bed, “There’s us, there’s them, and there’s you. It just so happens I noticed you and decided to help you out. You should be thanking me.”

 

Keith stands and stomps toward the bed, his face scrunching. “Explain. Now.”

 

“The Kingdom of the Sun.” Lance’s words are slower as he closes his eyes, “They’re fierce and bright and strong. We’ve fought them for centuries. And now they’re after you.”

 

“Why?” Keith presses on.

 

Lance hums and turns to his side, hiding his face from Keith’s imploring questions. “Watch the window while I sleep, will you?”

 

“Lance!” Keith pushes at the boy’s shoulder but he’s dead weight, already fast asleep.

 

☾☀︎☽

 

“Where’s your friend?” The woman asks, watching as Keith descends from the twisting wooden stairs.

 

Keith eyes her as he approaches, his attention brought almost immediately to her hair. It reminds him of Lance’s coat and the silver state of his blood, only now it sits upon her shoulders in soft waves. Her skin is dark and vibrant against the flickering lanterns lining the walls, and her eyes are almost as blue as Lance’s. He thinks of Lance's declaration that he's not the only one of his kind here, that the girl could be from the same place. 

 

“We’re not really…friends.” Keith says, sliding into a stool at the counter. She immediately reaches for a glass to fill but he shakes his head, sheepishly explaining that he has no money.

 

The woman watches him for a moment, her gaze both mischievous and wise all at once. “On the house.” She finally says, pouring an amber liquid into the clear mug. It foams and she slides it to him easily, “I’m Allura, by the way.”

 

“Keith.” He nods, thanking her for the drink.

 

“What are you doing with him if he’s not your friend?” Allura asks, cautious. Curious. She blinks slowly, as if she could easily rest her head and sleep at any moment.

 

“Do you know him?” Keith avoids the question, still having no idea himself. 

 

The question leaves him quickly and he’s tense while he waits, his impulsive thoughts to jump the counter, swipe the money, and leave growing strong each second he spends watching her think.

 

Allura shakes her head, “Maybe.”

 

Keith throws up his hands, “Why is everyone so difficult to get answers out of?”

 

“You didn’t answer my question either.” Allura counters, raising an eyebrow. She leans on her hand and yawns.

 

“He said he’s trying to help me.”

 

Allura waits, drumming her long fingers against her pretty cheek. Keith glances at the crescent shape beneath her eye, momentarily wondering if it’s a birth mark. He thinks of his own, the spindles resting on his right shoulder.

 

“And?” She asks.

 

“And I think I’m following a mad man.” He deflates, sagging on his stool. He runs his finger around the rim of his cup, watching the condensation slide pathways down the sides. Another man coughs from the corner of the room, smoke billowing out of his mouth from a long wooden pipe. Keith watches him for a moment, “He talks about the moon and the ocean and the sun like everyday business. Like someone would talk about the weather.”

 

“The sun?” Allura perks up, her shawl falling lower on her shoulder.

 

Keith looks away from the man and meets her eyes, “Yes.”

 

She purses her lips and glances toward the stairs, as if she were going to make a run for it. Keith straightens, alarm shooting through him. He thinks of Lance sleeping, the soft rise and fall of his chest, and wants to slap himself.

 

“I-I’ll go now.” He rushes, trying to step in front of her before she can dash for the stairs. He sees it in her tight posture, the way her muscles must be bunching beneath her dress.

 

Just then the door to the inn opens and a man stumbles in, catching both of their attention. “Allura!” His voice is rowdy and loud, somehow matching the shock of orange hair upon his head and upper lip. “Sorry I’m late!”

 

Allura clears her throat as the man approaches, no doubt here to take her place at the counter. Keith wastes no more time, opting instead to slip back up the stairs, anxiety bunching up in his chest the closer he gets to their door. He slides the key in and immediately spots Lance still fast asleep, his face turned toward the lone window. Keith crosses the room and inches the curtain back, searching for…what? He sighs and sweeps the street before giving up, seeing no sign of strange men or crowded panic or anything out of the ordinary.

 

He hurriedly locks their door before running some tap, letting the cool water hit his face. His lack of sleep is slowly catching up to him and before he can think twice about it, he’s slipping into the bed beside Lance. The boy makes a soft noise but otherwise doesn’t wake, letting Keith relax just enough to shut his own eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

When Keith wakes, he is alone. For a moment he thinks he’s back at his apartment, with it’s creaky floors and drafty corners. He turns in the bed, vaguely aware that the mattress is a little softer than normal, the comforter a little thicker, before he’s shooting up in panic. The room is cast in complete darkness, the lantern no longer lit on the bedside table. Keith reaches for the space beside him and feels the cool sheets, realizing Lance must have left some time ago. He quickly throws the blankets back and rises, rushing to the door in hopes that the boy is simply waiting outside. But the corridor is empty and the rooms are quiet, as if no other customers were behind them.

 

He makes his way to the stairs and rushes down, his hand running along rail. He hears voices and the clinking of glass as he reaches the bottom, immediately searching for Lance. The inn is full of the evening crowd, the counter serving as both a check-in and a bar, and people sit at almost every table. He spots the man with orange hair leaning on the counter, the tip of his mustache held between his fingers as he watches the crowd. Keith starts for him, eager to ask him if he’s seen Lance, but a loud laugh catches his attention before he can. His head whips to the left, toward the corner of the room closest to the door.

 

Lance is sitting with Allura, who nods her head at whatever the boy is saying before pushing something into Lance’s hand. He makes his way over as Lance stops talking, the object disappearing into the pocket of his pants, his bright eyes locking onto Keith in an instant.

 

“About time you woke up, sunshine.” Lance grins, leaning back in his chair.

 

Keith folds his arms, “You could have woken me up.”

 

Lance shrugs, “You looked tired.”

 

“Your friend is _much_ friendlier than you.” Allura says and Keith finally looks at her.

 

“He’s not-“

 

“I’ve already gotten used to it.” Lance scoffs, motioning for Keith to take a seat.

 

“What were you talking about?” Keith asks, glancing between the two of them.

 

Someone opens the door and walks in, allowing Keith a peek at the dark street. The sun must have set not too long ago. He must have slept all day.

 

Allura purses her lips, “He was just telling me a story.”

 

Lance nods, “A funny one.”

 

Keith doesn’t believe them.

 

“He also says you’ll both be leaving tomorrow night.”

 

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

 

Lance groans, throwing his head back. “You are _really_ stubborn, do you know that?”

 

Keith huffs, watching the way the flickering lantern flame dances across the ridges of Lance’s throat. His skin looks smooth, like someone of royalty; not someone like himself. Keith unconsciously touches his own face, wondering if the years spent fighting at the orphanage have taken their toll yet. He fingers the scar on his jaw, where the skin had split and bled. Lance’s dark complexion reminds Keith of rich caramel and he lets his eyes drift higher, to the slightly pointed ear peaking from beneath thick brown hair.

 

Keith tilts his head, “Has your ear always looked like that?”

 

Lance opens his eyes and lifts his head, “Looked like what?”

 

He sounds defensive, making Keith’s own ears heat when Allura chuckles. A low, throaty noise that would have surprised Keith if he weren’t currently defending himself against the glare of an icy gaze.

 

“Pointy.” He leans forward to touch just the tip, feeling the cool brush of a silver chain hanging from ridge to lobe. He pulls away quickly and shoves his hands beneath his thighs, sitting on them, keeping them still.

 

Lance clears his throat and pushes his chair away from the table to stand, “My ears are quite normal, thank you.” He says, though Keith doesn’t hear anything akin to true anger.

 

He watches as Lance strides away, floating between the tables to the counter.

 

“Do you trust him?”

 

Keith yanks his eyes away from the boy to Allura, who has grown serious. She nods her head toward Lance.

 

“Why?”

 

She leans back and lays her hand on the arm of the wooden chair, the click of her nails a steady drum. “Our people are dangerous.”

 

Keith leans forward, the chance of answers hanging over his head like bait to a fish. “Your people?”

 

She hums, “If he’s come to you, it means he wants something.”

 

“We all want something.” Keith’s reply is quick, out of his mouth before he can stop it.

 

Smirking, she grabs the cool drink sitting on the table to take a sip. “So I ask you again, do you trust him?”

 

Keith glances as Lance, who’s arms are waving in some strange tale, his voice louder than almost everyone else in the room. Others have taken notice of him, their ears turned toward his words, their sights set on the silk of his coat. If Keith were being honest with Allura, he would tell her that _doesn’t_ trust him. And he would tell her that even though he doesn’t trust him, the shock of this situation still leaving him a little breathless, he would still gladly follow him for as long as he could. Because that’s the thing with people like Keith. People who have never really had a purpose to follow.

 

Solitude makes you desperate for others.

 

Keith just lifts a shoulder as he turns back to her, “I don’t know.”

 

“Well, I suggest you figure it out soon.” She rises, sliding her drink toward him. “He believes you both have another night, correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She shakes her head, “I suspect you don't.”

 

☾☀︎☽

 

“Are you sure you can be out here?” Keith asks, walking beside Lance through the nighttime crowd, the echo of Allura’s words playing at the edges of his mind.

 

The crowd isn’t large and it isn’t particularly eventful, but Lance still seems enthralled by the few open shops. He stops at each one, his curiosity fresh to the sellers, who can spend up to ten minutes describing the purpose of just one object.

 

“The moon is high.” Lance sighs, letting a still-warm loaf of bread rub against his lips. Earlier Keith had watched Lance pull two golden coins out of seemingly nowhere before dropping them into the wrinkled hands of the baker, ignoring Keith’s confusion.

 

“You say that like I’m supposed to understand you.”

 

Lance glances at him, sounding dramatically wistful. “You'll understand one of these days.”

 

Keith stops. Lance pauses and turns to look back, his eyebrows raising high.

 

“I’ll stand here until the sun rises.”

 

“That would be very stupid.” Lance shakes his head, but traces back to Keith all the same. “If the moon is out and the night is fresh, I can almost guarantee there will be no soldiers of the Sun near. They thrive in the day.”

 

“I’ve yet to see them.”

 

Lance rips a piece of his bread and holds it out to Keith, “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

 

It’s quiet for a moment as Lance waits for Keith to accept the food. Eventually the rumbling of his stomach beats his thoughts and he’s reaching for the bread, shoving it into his mouth like a starved cub. Lance laughs and does the same, his cheeks puffing out until he swallows it all down. They continue on like that for a while, their shared bread lessening by the minute, their bellies filling and moods lifting.

 

“It’s almost sunrise.” Lance sighs, hanging his legs off the side of a cobbled bridge, his newly bought boots hitting the stone before bouncing off. The cities water supply is a lone river, its steady stream a trickle at this late hour, and Keith wonders if he’s ever truly heard it before. The city can be so hectic, so full of work and danger and voices, that he seems to have forgotten the nature that rests just beneath their boots. That a river flows through the center of the city and under each street like a beating heart.

 

He looks to Lance, watching the way his hair lifts lightly in the breeze. “Are you tired?”

 

“I’m always tired.” Lance says, “But I wish I could stay awake.”

 

“You can.” Keith shrugs, “Just like I can.”

 

“It's more than that. I never want to sleep.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I feel like I’m missing out on too much-” Lance yawns, “now that I’m here.”

 

Keith stands and debates helping the boy up by reaching out his hand but Lance rises all on his own, dusting off his clothes with little swipes.

 

“It’s not so great here.” Keith says, turning to walk back to the inn.

 

Lance doesn’t reply and Keith glances at him, noticing his attention to the sky. The moon is a bright crescent, the gathering of clouds just outside of the city not yet covering it's shine. Keith almost makes a wish, a quick little action of comfort, but then he looks at Lance. He thinks of who he is. 

 

And he keeps his wish to himself. 

 

☾☀︎☽

 

As it turns out, Allura was right.

 

Keith wakes from the banging of the door and Lance’s soft curses, his hair mussed and wild from having just left the pillow. He leans against the door, as if listening, before swinging it open. Keith jumps out of the bed and reaches for his knife, eyes wide as Allura rushes in. Her hair is pulled high on her head and her clothes are similar to Lance’s, the dress having disappeared to be replaced by trousers and a long coat.

 

“We have to leave,” She hisses, striding to pull at Keith’s arm. “ _now._ ”

 

Lance gathers his bearings as Allura leads Keith forward, almost shoving him to Lance’s side. She leans out the door and looks down the long hall, the profile of her face tight with worry. Lance snatches up his satchel and grabs Keith’s boots, throwing them at his feet. He rushes to put them on, lacing them up the ankle before Lance starts tugging him toward the door by his hand, the shock of his cool skin against Keith’s warmth a quiet surprise.

 

“How many?” Lance whispers, leaning close to Allura.

 

She shakes her head and inches out of the room, motioning for them to follow close behind.

 

Keith knows to stay quiet, the authority in Allura’s frown like that of a queen protecting her people. He glances at Lance’s own face, at the lines between his bunched eyebrows. They inch down the corridor like mice hiding from a cat, their steps light in fear of loose floorboards. Keith has little time to wonder if Allura was mistaken before they’re rushing down the stairs and flying behind the counter, the rug instantly being pushed by Allura’s strong hands. She grasps a metal knob and turns until the floorboards open as one. Cool, draft air escapes the tunnel, hitting Keith in the face. 

 

“Go!” She urges, motioning for Lance to descend into the darkness.

 

He makes it, his feet hitting damp earth within seconds. He looks up at Keith and lifts his hand. Keith takes a step, the partially rotted wood groaning under his weight.

 

He doesn’t get far before the inn’s door is bursting open, wood and beads flying around the room like an explosion. Allura shouts and stands, pulling a hidden flintlock pistol from beneath her coat. Keith hesitates, feeling his own knife in his pocket, and looks to her. He could help. He knows he could, just as he’s helped so many before.

 

But Allura will have none of it, only sparing Keith a grin and whisper before she uses her boot to kick him down the stairs. “We’ll be seeing each other.”

 

The trap door shuts just as her gun flares and releases a loud bang. 

 

They’re quickly cast into darkness, the only sounds from above being muffled crashes and shouts. Lance holds Keith, having broken the boy's fall, before pushing him away so they can run. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a shorter chapter, and not much will be explained, but it's slooowly getting there. Thanks to everyone leaving kudo's and comments! I'm having fun writing this so I hope you're enjoying the read ^^

 

 

Keith is tired. He’s cold, and damp, and so tired he fears he’ll drop to his knees any moment. The tunnels twist and turn for hours and the only openings they can find are covered by thick iron bars leading to alleyways.

 

He wants to scream.

 

Instead, he holds onto Lance. The boy’s hand is frigid but tight around his, keeping not only Keith but himself upright. They round another corner and hear a stronger rush of water.

 

Keith swears under his breath before ripping his hand away from Lance’s, his breathing ragged as he strides forward. “It’s been _hours._ ”

 

“We’ll get out soon.” Lance leans against the wall, for once not caring that it’s slick with perspiration and grime.

 

“We’re lost!” Keith throws his hands up, “There’s no way out and even if there was, we’d be too tired to actually _get_ out.”

 

“Stay calm.” Lance bows his head to rub the back of his neck.

 

“I am calm!”

 

Lance looks at him and quirks a brow, “Then what do you suggest?”

 

Keith stares at him for a moment, the question not expected after their constant bickering. Crossing his arms, he turns back toward the sound of the gushing water. He had tried his best at navigation, looking through the bars of the openings above their heads, neck craning and mind reeling. Lance had even tried to give him a boost up on his strong shoulders but Keith just couldn’t tell, the buildings all looking so similar while the sky was beginning to darken. He walks forward, listening as Lance sighs and follows close behind, before finding the source of the water. It’s deafening in his ears and moving very fast, the current pulled by a constant flow of powerful wind.

 

“Wind.” Keith muses, back straightening with each neuron firing in his brain. “And water.”

 

“Great observation.”

 

“No,” Keith shakes his head, turning to Lance quick as a whip. He tugs his sleeve and urges him forward, until they can both feel the wind upon their faces. “If there’s wind and the water is flowing with it, _that_ must be the way out.” He points down the dark tunnel.

 

Lance looks both directions, chewing his bottom lip in thought. “it’s not like we can go that way anyway. The tunnel behind us leads East in the opposite direction.”

 

“We don’t have to go back.”

 

He watches Lance lean away from the water, the hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he nods, “No going back. Are you afraid?”

 

Keith scoffs, “Of a little water? No way.”

 

“We could drown.”

 

Keith steps forward, until he can feel the brush of Lance’s coat against his own arm. “I have a feeling you won’t let that happen.”

 

Lance smiles and grasps Keith’s hand again, but before he can say anything else, Keith is jumping. They hit the water with large splashes and immediately begin to drift, Keith having only a moment before Lance is pulling him up by the shoulders to get his head above the water. He sputters and clings to him, his feet finding no purchase other than Lance’s own.

 

“Maybe I should have told you.” He coughs, shivering as the cold soaks through his clothes and into his skin.

 

“Told me what?” Lance tries to angle himself toward the wall, no doubt hoping his feet will catch on a loose piece of stone.

 

“That I can’t swim.”

 

Lance whips his head to look at him, shocked. “So what made you think jumping into a violent underground river would be a good idea?”

 

Keith slips a bit and panics as his shoulders go back under, but Lance wraps an arm around him just in time. “I don’t-“

 

“Just,” Lance tilts his head back a fraction, “get on.”

 

“What?”

 

“Get on my back.”

 

“Are you-“

 

“Get on or we’ll both be pulled under!”

 

Keith tries to swim around but the current fights against him, making it almost impossible if Lance weren’t holding onto his arm. He manages to wrap his legs around Lance’s waist just as the water really begins to pick up and he shouts, trying to latch his arms around his chest. Lance looses his balance a few times, making them either dunk all the way beneath the current or come incredibly close- Keith worries he’ll drown just by the water gushing into his mouth and nose.

 

Lance never says a word, not even when Keith rests his face within inches of his neck, a headache from the push and pull blooming in his skull like lightening in a storm. He groans, thinking that if they don’t get out soon, he really _will_ drown. But Lance holds tight to his leg, his ability to stay afloat and lose no energy something to be marveled.

 

And finally, after what seems like hours and Lance lets out his first deep breath from over-exertion, they breathe in fresh air. Keith lifts his face immediately, sucking it in until he feels like it could lift him up into the sky. The river slowly begins to settle enough for Keith to slide off Lance’s back when the water becomes more shallow and he starts to crawl, until the dirt and grass on the shore sinks into his hands. He turns and drops to his back, his breath leaving him in great huffs as Lance does the same. He feels the brush of his fingers against his, their bodies weighed down by soaked clothes and fatigue.

 

Keith licks at the water on his lips, dazed, watching as dark grey clouds float above. They momentarily blot out the stars but the moon remains untouched, and Keith thinks of his wish before he can stop himself.

 

_Please don’t let it rain tonight._

 

Lance laughs, a tired sound, and turns his head to look at Keith.

 

“Did you hear me?” Keith asks, incredulous. “Can you always hear what I’m thinking?”

 

He shakes his head, “No. I was just wondering how we actually survived that.” He sits up, “So don’t worry. I can’t hear you think in curses or about some pretty girl or-”

 

“I wouldn’t think of a girl.”

 

Keith flushes and sits up too, this time actually cursing himself for his impulsive thoughts. For his inability to keep said thoughts to himself.. He doesn’t look for Lance’s reaction as he pulls himself to his feet, the muscles in his legs screaming. The night air is clear and fresh against his skin as he finally looks around, noticing for the first time that they are _definitely_ not in the city.The river flows behind and ahead of them, the twisting water leading through open fields and beyond that; trees. He spins, surprised to see no sign of the sprawling city.

 

For the first time in his life, he’s free of the walls that constricted and kept him in place.

 

Lance groans as he pulls himself up, “If we’re going to rest, we need to do it away from the river.”

 

☾☀︎☽

 

For once, Keith wakes before Lance. The sun has risen sluggishly while they slept, covered partially by the gathering clouds. Keith suspects it’s late into the afternoon. The towering golden wheat, while slightly rough on their skin, provided a good enough cushion for their heads. Keith slept like the dead and awoke aching but rested, his face dangerously close to Lance’s chest. He had rolled away like he was on fire before getting to his knees, listening as the wheat flowed about in the wind.

 

Glancing at the forest ahead, he takes in just how far away they truly are. 

 

He sits and plays with a broken piece of wheat between his fingertips while he waits for Lance to wake up. He thinks of Allura and wonders if she made it, if whoever attacked had succeeded. He hopes not.

 

Crows caw above him and he watches them soar, their dark feathers glistening in each patch of sunshine released from the clouds.

 

“It’s so bright.”

 

Keith looks away from the sky and sees Lance watching him, his blue eyes crinkled at the edges against the sun.

 

“It’s cloudy.” Keith says, “Not even close to bright.”

 

Lance rolls his eyes and sits up, brushing wheat out of his hair. He looks toward the direction of the city and squints, as if he could see all the way back. “We should move on. We're vulnerable in the open.”

 

“We need food.”

 

Lance pulls at the satchel that somehow survived their escape and shakes it out. Keith watches as damp cloth falls onto the ground, bits and pieces of destroyed bread following close behind. He feels his spirits sink, the thought of finding anything close to dinner in the bare fields slim to none.

 

“It’s a ways back to the river.” Lance says, the hint of a question lacing his words.

 

Keith shakes his head, “Let’s just head toward the forest. As quickly as we can.” He glances at the sky, wondering how long the clouds will hold out before releasing the rain.

 

Standing, Lance brushes a dark hand through his hair, letting strands glide between his fingers like the silk of his coat. Keith glimpses a shape on his upper cheek, closer to his ear than his eye, and shuffles closer for a better look.

 

Lance turns away to face the forest, “Do you feel up for a run?”

 

Tearing his gaze away from the boy’s face, Keith feels a spark of excitement flicker in his chest. He nods, and reaches to unlace his boots, feeling the earth against the soles of his feet.

 

They take off shortly after, at first in quiet company, but soon they begin to laugh. Thunder rumbles behind them, like a great beast chasing close at their heels, but Keith finds that it only adds to his excitement. His hands brush against blades of wheat as he tries to take the lead, surprised when he actually does. He looks back at Lance and laughs, a sound rarer to him than any other. The burn in his chest and legs quickly gives way to a strange sort of pause, like the feeling is looping and becoming easier to handle each second. The first drop of rain he feels is cool on his cheek but it doesn’t slow him, not until the forest has drawn nearer and Lance further behind. He almost trips while trying to stop but steadies himself just enough to turn, watching as Lance bounds toward him with a grin.

 

“You’re fast.” He huffs.

 

Keith chuckles, letting the boots in his hand drop to the ground. Rain begins to patter around them in quick succession and Keith rubs his sleeve against his eyes. “We can’t stay out here.”

 

Lance glances at the forest behind them, nodding. “The trees should provide some cover.” He walks past Keith, not bothering to put his own shoes on.

 

Keith agrees and ties his boots fast, ignoring the dampness between his toes before turning to follow. They walk briskly and with each step Keith sees the forest spreading before them more and more, the dark green foliage contrasting against the brown bark of the trees. Trees that tower like giants, as if their roots could rip from the ground and move as humans do, spreading until they can find new lands to inhabit. But as they approach them, their gazes drawn up by the massive trunks, Keith knows that they’re as stuck to the earth as he is.

 

He looks at Lance again, wondering why someone who could be anywhere other than here would choose to root themselves down.

 

“We have no weapons.” Lance speaks up, glancing at Keith.

 

But for once, Keith doesn’t have any idea what to do. He shrugs, “Don’t you have some kind of moon power or something?”

 

“I’m not full just full of magic, Keith.” Lance says, exasperated. He wipes a hand over his face, brushing away water as the rain begins to thicken.

 

“But you-“ Keith motions around himself, trying to mimic the beams of light that appeared on the boy the first night they met.

 

“I can only _heal_.” He sighs, “We have to use weapons just as you do.”

 

“Well…we have our shoes.” Keith suggests, only half-joking.

 

Lance stares at him, debating whether or not to take him seriously, before he rolls his eyes. “Yeah. At least we have those.”

 

Keith smirks at Lance’s back and with no other options, he follows close behind, the forest dark and cool as it closes around them. 


End file.
